A Ghost of You
by Sandylee007
Summary: (My version of what happened when Jack and Alonso met.) The greatest curse of being immortal is being forced to outlive everyone you love. This Jack knows all too well. But when the Doctor introduces him to a stranger called Alonso he may just get the biggest surprise of his entire endless life… A FIX-IT FIC, in a way. STRONG Janto wibes. NOW WITH POV'S FROM JACK AND IANTO
1. Jack's story

A/N: Sooooo, a word of warning. This is my first plunge into the 'Torchwood' world. I've been INSANELY anxious to type this fic for days now, and today I finally got the chance to.

WARNINGS: SLASH, some language, drinking, general oddness… (smirks)

DISCLAIMER: Oh, if only…! Just one thing. If I DID own anything, Ianto wouldn't have died before getting the chance to grow old and gray.

Now, folks… I've gotta get going before I'll chicken out. I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

* * *

A Ghost of You

* * *

Jack Harkness was a flirt. Always had been. But on that seemingly endless night he sat drunk out of his mind and alone in a bar, which was becoming a annoyingly common occurrence. And in his hands was a note that held a stranger's name someone else had fished out for him.

Had he really become so pathetic that the Time Lord himself saw the need to play a matchmaker for him?

Well, he wouldn't have been Jack Harkness if he didn't even try. And so he perfected his most charming grim. Determined to feel… _normal_, even if only for a little while.

"Know what I'm thinking right now?"

"Oh yeah…"

The easy air, loaded with intoxication and flirt, lasted until Jack _really_ looked at his companion. At the expression on the man's face, focusing on the smile. Into those eyes.

There was just too much Ianto, there.

Jack wasn't sure what he muttered as an excuse or if he said anything at all. But all of a sudden he'd stumbled his way to the hallway in which the toilets located. He leaned his back heavily against the wall and buried his face in his hands, focusing hard on breathing.

The flood of memories crashed through him slowly and painfully. Peeling off a part of him in a way even he couldn't recover from. And then it was over, leaving a nagging, aching hollowness into him. He honestly couldn't decide which part was worse.

When Jack eventually returned to the bar he was somewhat stunned to notice that Alonso was still there, staring at another drink deep in thought. Jack had two options. To walk out, or to carry on. Always the soldier, he pushed himself forward.

Jack cleared his throat upon sitting down once more. It was one of those very, very rare and incredibly infuriating moments when he had no idea what to say. "Ehm… Sorry, about that." Well, it was a start.

Alonso shrugged. Fortunately the man didn't seem too offended. "Must've been one hell of a guy, to make you drink like that to forget."

"I'm… not drinking to forget", Jack pointed out. He couldn't understand why he felt the need to share it with a stranger and there was just enough alcohol in his system to keep him from caring. "I'm drinking so that I bear remembering." There. How pathetic was that?

"Why?"

Jack looked away, gritting his teeth hard. The thoughts and memories spinning around in his head… They were much too precious to be shared with a stranger. "Because it was one of the few things he ever asked of me."

Upon looking towards his companion Jack discovered that one of Alonso's eyebrows was arched. "So… He was expecting you to hang on to his memory for the rest of your life? That sounds like a cruel final request."

Jack blinked twice, quickly. Something close to alarm flaring to life in his drunken mind. "How…?"

Alonso shrugged and focused on his drink once more. Then downed it with a single gulp, wincing a bit at the aftershock. "I'm kind of a psychic, too."

Jack was too worn down by the drinks he'd consumed and sleepless nights to question further. Maybe he'd even be able to sleep tonight. He ordered another drink, just to be safe.

While his request was being fulfilled Jack swallowed. And finally found his voice. "It wasn't cruel", he argued, dangerously close to making it sharp. "No one… No one deserves to be just a blip in time."

Alonso was quiet for a moment. Seemed to think hard or hesitate. "Did you love him?"

* * *

/ _"I love you."_

_"Don't…!" _/ _Don't say goodbye!_

* * *

The ache was almost more than Jack could take and he shuddered. Where the hell was his drink? "Yes."

He didn't tell it to Ianto back then because it would've sounded too much like a goodbye, like a permission to give in. He didn't want those words to be tainted by something so cruel and bitter. If he'd known that it was his last chance…

"Don't worry. He knew." Their drinks arrived, whenever Alonso ordered another for himself being a mystery. The stranger lifted his shot and looked at him expectantly. "To those who are… more than just blips in time."

Well, Jack drank gladly to that.

Once they were done they sat in a rather companionable silence, letting alcohol burn in their mouths. Both of them lingering in their own thoughts. So close, yet very far.

Jack surprised himself with being the one to break the silence. "Who was it for you?" Meeting confusion he elaborated. "The one you lost."

There was something sad and incredibly, disturbingly familiar on Alonso's face all of a sudden. The man sighed. "It's… a long and confusing story. One neither of us is up for tonight." The stranger offered him a small, quick smile. "Look… It's been a pleasure. But… I don't think we'll get any further tonight, with how wasted we are." Alonso paid for his drinks, and a couple of Jack's. "Maybe I'll buy you coffee next time."

It definitely wasn't like Jack to just give up, even if he'd already been offered a second round. But he didn't exactly feel like being the mighty Harkness tonight. So he nodded, letting his shoulders slump a little. Until a thought crossed his mind. "Wait!" He frowned at the man who'd already been walking away. "Aren't you even going to ask my name?" How were they supposed to meet again if the other didn't have that much?

Alonso chuckled like he'd just said something very amusing. "I already know it, Jack." With that the man hauled himself up, a warm, surprisingly soft hand caressing Jack's briefly. "Now finish that one, go home and sleep. You need to stop torturing yourself at some point."

Jack nodded slowly and looked away once more. Maybe he'd had enough to close his eyes without seeing… "Goodnight, Alonso."

"Goodnight, sir", a suddenly eerily familiar voice half whispered, barely carrying over the noise of the bar. "I'll see you soon. Maybe then I'll be wearing a suit again."

Jack's eyes flew wide and his hand tightened convulsively around the drink he'd been holding. He turned his head as fast as he could but it wasn't enough. The stranger was gone.

Still, somehow and impossibly, for the first time in who knows how long hope began to blossom in Jack's heart.

"Ianto?"

* * *

**_End._**

* * *

A/N: Oh boy… I just couldn't resist the opportunity to give those two another chance. Maybe. Possibly.

Soooo… How was that? Any good at all? PLEASE, do let me know!

In any case… Thank you so much for reading! Who knows, maybe I'll be seeing you later.

Take care!


	2. Ianto's story

A/N: This story's been haunting my mind. And now, before I knew it… It looks like we've got a second chapter. (grins) But before getting to that…

THANK YOU, so very much, for your amazing reviews! 'Torchwood' is still a new land for me so it warms my heart that you've welcomed me so kindly.

Awkay, because I SHOULD be on my way to bed… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

* * *

Rose Tyler found it unsettling how she began to grow used to her new world. To the second life she'd been forced to build after becoming stranded there, twice. It helped that she wasn't alone. That her life was, in fact, very good.

Still, she found herself wandering to Bad Wolf Bay far more often than would've been healthy or fair. As though still waiting, hanging on to foolish child's hopes. Sometimes she only came to remember. But never once did the weight sitting on her heart ease.

One morning, however, she wasn't there alone. Upon arrival she froze for a long moment when she discovered a man with dark hair and blue eyes that were currently full of concentration. Her interest was piqued when she realized that he was working on a painting.

Fully aware of the fact that her approach might not be appreciated Rose began to walk closer. "'Morning", she greeted with a smile. "A bit early, don't you think?"

He smiled back and somehow a hint of sadness remained although the gesture reached his eyes. "I suppose that I love early mornings", he explained with a clearly audible Welsh accent. He frowned. "Have I met you before?" Then, before she could utter a word, recognition dawned. "Ah, you've been to the café where I work! Two sugars, just a dash of cream."

Rose chuckled. "Now I remember you, too! You make the best coffee." There was a moment's silence, during which they studied one another. "I'm Rose Tyler. And you are…?"

"Jack. Or, well… I'm not sure if that's my real name."

Rose's eyebrow arched. There was a hint of tingle under her skin. "How can you not know?"

The artist kept staring away pointedly. For a long time she was sure that he wouldn't answer. "I… woke up here, a while ago, and they kept asking my name. Apparently it was the first thing I uttered."

Rose would've wanted to pry further but knew that it wasn't her place. She'd already crossed a line. Instead she chose to direct the conversation elsewhere. She nodded towards his artwork. "What are you painting?"

* * *

The question, which was really quite simple, made the man without a name of his own freeze. His blue eyes widened a fraction before he blinked once. Twice. Thrice.

Yes, what was he painting, indeed? What was it before his very eyes? A memory? A dream? A trick of his imagination?

All he knew was that he had several similar paintings and drawings decorating the walls of his small flat. It was a face. One that'd already haunted his dreams several times.

Those dreams, or whatever they were, felt bizarre in a way that went past his capability of explaining. He was there and… he wasn't. He heard the voices. Experienced emotions that weren't his own. Felt and knew things that he shouldn't have. Each and every time he encountered that face it sent his heart beating extremely fast, both in the fragments of some subconscious level and every time he woke up. Panting like he'd finished a marathon. Fighting back tears. Longing for something, _someone_, that he couldn't even remember, something that probably didn't even exist.

Those strange, confusing hours of the night were the clearest memories he had and he had absolutely no idea what they were.

* * *

/ _"This planet is too small. The whole world… is like a graveyard."_

_So much pain, there. Some of it his. Maybe, possibly. And so, so much that wasn't. Tears rolled down his cheeks although he couldn't be entirely sure why. It should've scared him more than it did that the voice speaking was that of a woman. "It wasn't your fault."_

_"I think it was."_ /

* * *

That was the first dream he had. And no matter how badly it stunned him he found several pieces of him yearning for another. He was granted his wish, several times over. And each time the impossible, odd world inside his head felt more and more real.

Each time he felt more and more connected to the traces of a life that'd never been his, that never even existed.

* * *

/ _"Did you see Ianto?" Jealousy mixed effortlessly with countless of other emotions. Grief, longing… This time it seemed that a part of his mind was far more firmly attached to something that he just couldn't seem to grasp._

_Ianto… That name… It sounded so familiar…!_

_There was a razor sharp flood of memories. Of kisses. Of bitter arguments. Of tender, private moments. Of steaming hot love. And although those flashes couldn't possibly be his a part of him truly felt like they could be. Wanted them to be._

_He also knew that he would've given a lot if he would've been able to wipe some of those shadows from the other's eyes. "You would've have liked him... or maybe not. You would've been jealous."_ /

* * *

And then, finally, came the… _moments_ he experienced the night before. This time he'd been fully connected to the memories of someone who went by the name of Ianto Jones. To the memories of someone who loved a man named Jack Harkness until the day he died.

But the body that spoke to Jack in that dream… That voice… They didn't belong to Ianto Jones. Even now, in broad daylight, that fact scared him a lot less than it should've. Same could've been said about his subconscious mind conjuring up make belief lives and… after lives, apparently. What bothered him the most was the grief of who may or may not have been Jack.

* * *

/ _"Know what I'm thinking right now?"_

_"Oh yeah…"_

_It felt so easy, so effortless, to be swept away by that flirt. To imagine kissing those lips. To imagine making love to that body which only existed inside his head. To imagine going to hell and back again to chase away the inconsolable grief hanging over the nonexisting man's entire being._

_"No one deserves to be just a blip in time."_

_"Did you love him?" He couldn't understand why but hearing the answer felt important. He needed to hear it, even if it was an echo of his over active imagination._

_"Yes."_

_He wanted to scream. To kiss the visibly broken imaginary man until those lips were bruised. To see them curve into a smile. Instead he offered a promise that'd be easy enough to keep. "I'll see you soon. Maybe then I'll be wearing a suit again." Perhaps as soon as the next time he went to sleep._ /

* * *

Staring at the nearly finished painting the nameless man fought the urge to cry. Breaking down like that in front of a stranger, for reasons that he couldn't even understand, wasn't something that he wanted to do. Not even if his very heart was breaking in his chest. "I don't know who he is", he admitted softly. "I reckon that he doesn't even exist." He unleashed a bitter chuckle, running a unsteady hand down a part of the painting that wasn't wet. "I… I don't know how old I am, but much too old for imaginary friends."

Rose giggled at that. He liked the sound. "Can I see it?"

He hesitated for a moment, focused on the artwork's eyes to avoid looking at her. Then nodded. "It's… not that good. Just… Something I did, to pass the time."  
She stepped closer with an amount of curiosity that he could feel. Peered towards his painting. And then, after a stilled moment, unleashed a loud gasp.

* * *

Feeling a great deal of curiosity Rose looked towards the painting. She didn't know what she expected to find. What she discovered made her knees go weak.

It seemed like such a long time from when she last received remnants of her former world…!

"Rose?" The man sounded genuinely worried. "Are you alright?"

Rose couldn't speak. Didn't know what to say. Because to her this man's imaginary friend wasn't imaginary at all.

She was staring at the painted face of Captain Jack Harkness.

* * *

**_End._**

* * *

A/N: And nooooooow, we have two sides to the story. Quite heartbreaking, really, with both of them longing so desperately! (sniffs)

I truly hope that you enjoyed this second POV! If you wanna let me know… Well, there's a pretty box down below…

In any case, THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for reading! Who knows. Maybe we'll meet again?

Take care!

* * *

**sandysan2013**: Well, I couldn't quite resist that temptation so… (chuckles) I really hope that you'll enjoy the second chapter/POV just as much!  
Huge thank yous for the review!


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